


A Day Out

by dogeared



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010) Cast Dogs RPF, Hawaii Five-0 (2010) RPF
Genre: Anthropomorphic, Dog(s), Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-24
Updated: 2011-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-28 01:05:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/302044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dogeared/pseuds/dogeared
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They run fast, faster even than her person can run, both of them grinning, tongues lolling in the breeze.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Day Out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sheafrotherdon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheafrotherdon/gifts).



"He's asleep!"

"Are you sure?"

Dusty drops a damp, crumpled tissue in front of Dot's paws. "He's sick—he has salty stuff leaking out of his nose, and he keeps making sounds like he's barking," she noses at the tissue, "and these are all over the floor. They were fun to chew, at first."

They both pause and cock their heads when they hear a deep, rattling snore come from the room with the people-bed.

"Okay, all right, this is good," Dot says. "We'll be quick, and then you can come back and snug up next to him, protect him, make sure he's safe."

"Maybe your person can bring him something good to eat?" Dusty asks, and Dot presses her cold nose into the soft fur behind Dusty's ear and says, "Yes, treats will help him get strong and better. Now, come on!"

Dot knows how to nudge open the door with the screen, so it's easy for them to slip outside. Dusty's only been beyond the familiar perimeter of house and yard by herself once, nose to the ground, following the musky trail of something small and scurrying, until the smells became confusing, and she wasn't sure which way was home, and it was a long time before she heard something she recognized—her person's loudest voice, calling her name—and she ran toward it until she found him. But Dot always knows where she's going, so Dusty's not afraid to follow the flash of her tail and the salty scent of water out the door, around the shaded corners of buildings, out into the sunshine.

Once Dusty's paws hit the sand, she forgets about everything else—there's water to splash in and seagulls to chase and things to taste and think about rolling around in—but she stays focused on their goal, and Dot only has to tackle her once because she gets distracted and starts digging and digging, down to where the sand is cool and wet and there are things hiding under it, slipping away before she can catch them.

They run fast, faster even than her person can run, both of them grinning, tongues lolling in the breeze.

Dot can keep running and jumping and catching forever, and Dusty's glad when she finally slows down, zigs and zags and crouches low to the ground, making herself almost disappear and slinking underneath a picnic table. Dusty's not as good at sneaking—she always gets caught when she tries to taste her person's food—so she sits down in the sand and waits, panting, wishing she had a bowl of fresh water she could drink from. Adventures are thirsty work.

Dot waits until there aren't so many pairs of legs walking by and darts back to Dusty's side. She's dragging something fuzzy, the sleeve of it held carefully between her teeth. Dusty sniffs it—it smells like sand and salt, and like food, but most of all, like Dot's person. She found it! Dusty yips at her, and Dot wags her tail proudly.

They trot back the way they came—Dusty's legs are shorter than Dot's, so she doesn't mind that they're going slower now. A small person reaches out to pet Dusty, though, and when she stops to let him, he grabs her tight around the middle and won't let go, and Dusty has to wriggle and squirm to get free. Dot drops the sleeve just long enough to bark, "Run!" and they do, away from the water, over the grass, which feels good under Dusty's paws, beneath tall trees, turning this way and that, and Dusty's just starting to feel uncertain when she sees her squishy ball, and then a stick she chewed yesterday, and then the patch of dirt she's been thinking might need some digging. Home.

They drink all the water in the big bowl, whiskers touching, and Dot finds a good spot on the floor, turns around three times and settles in to wait for her person, muzzle resting on her prize. He'll be back soon, Dusty knows, and he'll tell Dot she's his good girl, which is the thing that makes Dot happiest in the whole world.

Dusty shakes herself so that she's only a little wet and sandy and jumps up onto the bed—one clean leap, even though she's tired. She licks her person's hot, scratchy face and curls up in the nest of blankets, pressed against his chest. She can feel him breathing, and the rhythmic thump of his heartbeat, and it makes her eyelids heavy.

Her person stirs, scratches all the itchy places just right with his big hand, behind her ears and around her neck where her collar sits, and he talks to her in his quiet voice, the one that makes Dusty feel warm and content, the one that makes her feel like she's exactly where she belongs.


End file.
